


It's Magic!

by MagicalStranger13



Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-06
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2018-03-21 14:17:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3695468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicalStranger13/pseuds/MagicalStranger13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Griselda reveals something...fascinating about Bog.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Magic!

**Author's Note:**

> Wow! Over 100 hits in a week and 8 Kudos and counting for my first story! I'm so happy, I couldn't wait to get this puppy out! Just an idea that came to me from watching the movie a few times, particularly the scene where Bog recaptures the Sugar Plum Fairy and where Alan Cumming shouts "It's Magic!" during the climax of the soundtrack version of Strange Magic. Hope you guys like it!

* * *

“Wanna know somethin’ fascinating about my son?”

Marianne peered up from the design plans she’d been meticulously analyzing for the last hour and a half.  She and the Queen Mother were currently settled on the lowest branch of a shady cedar tree, overlooking the bustling construction site below.  The former, pacing the length of the bough as she poured over the sketches for the new fortress and occasionally barking out orders to the goblin subjects.  The latter, reclining on a patch of moss, fanning herself with a dried leaf and periodically sipping a raspberry colored liquid from a wooden goblet.   

“Huh?”

“I said, do you wanna know somethin'  _fascinating_ about Bog?”  Griselda patiently repeated.       

The king in question was currently miles away, gathering some extra supplies and building materials with a battalion of goblins.  He’d left Marianne in charge of things until he returned.      

Judging from the rather smug grin on the elder’s face and her use of the word ‘fascinating’, Marianne suspected that this mysterious piece of information was much juicier than a mere undiscovered personality trait or embarrassing childhood story.

With her curiosity successfully piqued, Marianne glanced around to ensure their privacy.  The workers on the forest floor were well out of earshot and Bog was not expected back until late afternoon.

Convinced that they would not be disturbed, she kneeled down to Griselda’s level and set the forgotten papers beside her. 

“What is it?” 

She tried not to sound too eager, despite her wide-eyed expression giving her away. 

“ _My_ son,” the gobliness proclaimed in a pleased tone, “knows _magic_!”  

Marianne blinked like an owl.  

“He _does_?” She asked, face pinching with rapt interest and astonishment.  “Seriously?!”

“Seriously.” Griselda affirmed, quite proud of the fact that she had managed to stun her unsuspecting future daughter-in-law.

“I…h-he… _wow_.”  Marianne stammered, trying to wrap her head around this new discovery.  “How come _he_ never told me about this?”

“Eh, he probably didn’t think it was worth mentioning.”  The other shrugged.  “He only knows a handful of tricks and he hasn’t cast a spell in years.” 

“But how is it even _possible_?  I thought only spirits, like Sugar Plum, know how to use magic.”

“Which brings us to the other half of this little secret!   _Bog_ is _part_ spirit!”

“What?!”  Marianne gasped, too floored to be abashed about the ridiculous face she was making.  “No way!”

“I kid you not, my dear.  One-sixteenth blood on his father’s side.  An ancestor of his fell in love with a kind of ancient spirit.  A will-o’-wisp, I think it was called.  Anyway, their offspring were all born with the power to practice magic.  Of course, the ability diminishes by generation, but my boy’s still got a useful bit of it.  How do you think he was able to trap Plum in the first place?”

“You mean… _Bog_ made that spider web ball thing?”  

“Yes indeed, little lady!”

Marianne sat back against the tree bark.  The idea of Bog being familiar with the magical arts, no matter how small the amount, added a delicious air of mysteriousness and intrigue to her already enamored image of the dark king.  Her gaze drifted to the southeast direction he had taken earlier this morning.  The ever-present desire for his speedy homecoming increased threefold.

“I’ll bet,” Griselda began again, sensing her subtle longing, “he’d be willing to show you some of what he knows, if you ask him.”

That was _exactly_ what the fiery princess planned to do.

“I still can hardly believe it.”  She managed to say, shaking her head.  “It’s just…it’s…”

“Fascinating?”

Marianne turned to her companion and couldn’t help smirking.

“Yeah.” 

* * *

The structure currently serving as temporary lodgings for the two goblin royals and their personal staff, was once a mighty termite mound, long abandoned by its erectors. 

At present, Marianne was seated at a worn desk in Bog’s bed chamber, trying and failing to distract herself by flipping through a book on Dark Forest flora.  Her fingers drummed impatiently against her thigh.  The goblins had finished their work for the day hours ago.  The sky was now the pale indigo color of early evening and Bog was still not back yet. 

She wasn’t too worried about his being in any danger, for she knew better than anyone else that he was more than capable of taking care of himself, but she was anxious to discuss and explore this new side of him.         

Plus, confidentially…she was _hungry_ for him.

It had been almost twelve days since they’d had a proper private moment together; an unhappy circumstance for young lovers (well, young- _ish_ in Bog’s case), especially with a relationship as budding as their own.  What with her being tied up at the Fairy Kingdom and he being so busy with preparations for the new castle, when she’d arrived at first light, she’d barely had enough time to kiss him goodbye before he had to take off.

And now he was late!

Fortunately, luck decided to throw her a bone because at last, she heard the unmistakable rapid beating of Bog’s wings, fast approaching the window.  Next to his voice, it was her favorite sound in the world.  Like wet leaves slapping against each other in the wind.

With unbridled gusto, Marianne practically jumped up from her seat and glided out the window to the small balcony beyond.  Her honey eyes immediately caught sight of the tall and imposing figure of her Bog King just now touching down on the ledge. 

His cobalt orbs were on her in an instant and despite his obviously tired posture, he moved towards her with swift determination and she more than willingly folded herself into his tight embrace. 

“Finally.”  He growled softly against her lips before claiming them in a heated and thorough kiss that made her spine quiver and her toes curl in her boots.  She didn’t dare stop the soft moan as she wrapped her arms around his neck. 

Damn, she’d missed him!

Normally, such a wanton reaction would have disgusted her, had it not been so obvious how their intimacy was equally affecting Bog.  His chest rumbled and his claws dug into her back not nearly enough to hurt, but plenty enough to make her arch into his lean frame.   

When they ultimately had to part, silly lungs needed air and all that, they remained intertwined; foreheads resting against each other as their breathing calmed.  

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“Rough day?” 

She ran a single finger along the base of his throat, where his carapace split open like a collared shirt. 

“I think I’m gonna take ye up on yer idea about usin’ carrier flies as a new communications network.”  He replied, lifting a hand to massage his scaled temple as he led her back into the room.  “I’m so bloody sick of those damn mushrooms messin’ up _every piece_ of intelligence tha’ goes through them!”

Propping his staff against the wall, he sat down at the desk with a huff and Marianne perched herself on its corner as he continued.

“Everythin’ was fine until the end!  All we ‘ad left ta do was gather a few bushels o' marsh reeds an’ we wandered around like a bunch a’ twits fer _three_ hours cuz’ the directions go' all muddled!  Stuff an’ Thang wouldn’ stop arguin’!  Brutus go' covered in stickers!  It was an absolute nightmare!”

“Poor baby.”  Marianne teased, reaching over to tickle one of his ears.

He swatted at her, but did not retort. 

“So how did everythin’ go around here taday?”  He inquired with a sigh.  “Any catastrophes?”

“Sadly, no; _those_ , I can _handle_.  It was pretty dull, but we _did_ make a lot of progress.  The south wall’s all finished.”

“Tha’s good.  Thank you.”  He stroked an appreciative thumb across her knee.  “I’m sorry I ‘ad ta leave ye here alone with my _mother_.”    

“Actually, I had a pretty good time with your mom.”

“Ye _did_?!”

“Yeah, we had kind of a nice… _talk_.”  

Bog suddenly looked a bit unsettled.

“O-oh?  Wh-what about, exactly?”

Noticing his completely adorable stammering, Marianne couldn’t resist torturing him just a little.

“Oh, just… _stuff_.”

He frowned in bemusement.

“Do ye mean Stuff? Or _stuff_ -stuff?”

“See, I know you were trying to make that less confusing, but you kinda failed.”  Marianne chuckled.  “Good thing I already know what you mean.  We talked about stuff-stuff, not the goblin Stuff.  Your mom told me something… _fascinating_ about you.”

“Fascinatin’?  About _me_?  Oh no, wh-wha' did she say?  Wait, did she tell ye about the _pansies_?!” Bog shouted, sitting up ram-rod straight in the chair.  “She told ye about the pansies didn’t she?!  I am gonna _kill_ ‘er!  She swore she’d neva’ tell a soul!  For God’s sake, I only did that _once_ an' I was _eight_ years old!  I was just-!”

His rant was cut short once he got a load of Marianne's all-out shocked and amused expression.

“No, Bog.”  She managed to say around a mouthful of poorly suppressed laughter.  “Your mom didn’t say _anything_ about _pansies_.”

...

A pair of sharp, goblin cheeks turned strawberry red.

“…Oh…but... _I_ jus’ did, didn’t I?”

“ _Oh_ , yeah.”

“Son of a dung beetle!”  Bog cursed as his humiliated head sunk into his hands.

“She _said_ ,” Marianne pressed, deciding to take one step at a time and give the poor guy a break, “that you know _magic_.”

Bog looked up at her in surprise before realization dawned on him.

“Oh!  Oh, _that_.  Um…yeah, I-I do, a _wee_ bit.”

Marianne lit up with awe and she leaned so far in his direction, it was a marvel she didn’t topple over into his lap.

“So it’s really _true_?  That is _so_ cool!”

“Take it easy, you.”  Bog warned, grabbing her shoulders to ensure her balance.  “It’s nothin’ ta fuss about.  I’m no spirit, I jus' know a few spells my father taught me and I’m not even as good as he was.  Ye see the ability-”

“Diminishes by generations, I know.”  She finished for him.  “So what sort of stuff can you do?”

He gave a nervous shrug.

“Nothin’ too fancy, mostly just simple stuff.  I can 'elp heal the trees, I can increase some of my physical strength at will-”

“Whoa!  So _that_ ’s how you were able to hold that skull up?!”

“Uh, yeah.  It was heavier than I thought.” 

He absentmindedly rubbed his left arm before he went on. 

“I can use light mind-control, but only on really young animals, and…um-”

“Make prisons for spirits?”

Bog sheepishly scratched the back of his neck.

“Heh, yeah.  Tha' too.”

“Show me!”  She exclaimed, no longer able to contain herself. 

“What?”

“I really wanna see this for myself!  Come on, _please_?” 

She unleased her deadly weapon of cuteness upon him with raised purple wings and a pout.

“I-I _can’t_ right now.”

Her wings dropped like hail and the pout morphed into a disappointed scowl.

“Why _not_?”

“Because I’m _exhausted_ , lofe.”  He chuckled, trying to cheer her.  “Magic needs a lo' of energy, ye know, and I’m no' like Plum; I actually _need_ ta eat an’ sleep.”

Marianne froze.  She’d been so immersed in her mission to see some magic, she’d completely forgotten about how he was most likely starving and ready to conk out at any second. 

And she hadn’t even _considered_ that magic might be difficult for him!

Perhaps that was why he hadn’t cast a spell in years, as Griselda had mentioned earlier. 

Her cheeks flushed and she pulled away, ashamed for being so uncharacteristically thoughtless. 

“Tell ye what.”  Bog said, tilting her chin up and smiling tenderly at her.  “Three days from now, the moon’ll be full again. Come see me then, and I’ll show ye how I made tha' worb.”

“ _Worb_?” She echoed.  “That’s what it’s called?”

“Yeah, an orb made from a spider’s web.  A worb.”

“How come we have to wait ‘til the full moon?”

“First rule o' magic,” Bog groaned, holding up a finger as if he was quoting a saying he’d likely been told a countless number of times as a child, “is follow every single rule ta the letter, unless ye wan' ta face disaster.” 

“Guess _you_ forgot about that when Plum made you that Love Potion, hmm?” 

She wiggled her eyebrows at him.

“Oh, hush.”  He grumbled, giving her side a playful pinch. 

It was much easier to make sport about that fateful day, now that it was clear his physical appearance had nothing to do with the rejection.  Besides, had he known about _this_ wild, firebrand of a fairy, destiny had had in store for him, he would’ve been more than happy to wait patiently and never so much as _glance_ at another female.   

“I was ‘young and impetuous’, like she said.  Now can we go an’ get somethin’ ta eat, Tough Girl?  I think my stomach’s abou' ta implode.” 

* * *

Marianne hurried after Bog as he zipped through the black, towering trees of the Dark Forest.  A swollen moon glowed heavy and bright above their heads.   

For the past three days, her already limited patience had worn thin.  She’d thrown herself into rigorous training (and occasional make-out) sessions with Bog to help distract her from the relentless anticipation churning in her gut.      

And now she was only minutes away from witnessing this extraordinary…demonstration!

They’d been flying for about fifteen minutes and Bog’s head kept turning this way and that, scanning the moss-covered branches above them.  Occasionally, he’d pause and use his staff to prod at a few twigs for closer examination, only to grunt and dash away again without a word. 

He was starting to drive her crazy!  She kept her comments to herself though; no _way_ was she going to ruin this.

Finally, he stopped again and this time, reached out and snapped off a stick from a massive sycamore.  It was almost as tall as she was and it curved over into a jagged hook shape.

Oh, of _course_!  _That_ ’ _s_ what he’d been searching for!

“This’ll do.” Bog muttered almost to himself before darting down to a grassy, moonlit knoll atop a rocky overhang flanked by a thick briar patch, Marianne right on his heels.

“Are you sure you’re up for this?”  She called to him, remembering what he’d said about the amount of energy magic required.  “This isn’t worth you passing out or anything!”

“Don’t worry; I’m full an’ well rested!  I wanted ta make sure I put on a good show for ye!”

Once they were both grounded, Bog placed both staffs on the grass and turned to the spikey bush, carefully peering around its edges. 

“Should be one right around here…somewhere…Ah-ha, _there_ ye are!”

Curious, Marianne stepped forward to see what had captured his attention. 

Suspended between a handful of thorns and a stone, was a small, glittering web.  In its center, sat the tiniest spider Marianne had ever seen.  It was ash grey and barely bigger than her palm.  Judging from its rather large multiple eyes in comparison to its shorter legs, she could tell it was only a baby. 

Bog clicked his tongue in a coaxing manner and held out a steady hand to the little creature. 

“Come ‘ere, darlin’.”  He cooed with a softness that made something melt in Marianne’s chest. “Come on.”

After a beat, and with fumbling cuteness, the baby spider cautiously crawled from its perch and onto Bog’s outstretched fingers.

“Tha’s it.” He encouraged, bringing his other hand in to securely cup the animal in his grasp.  “Tha’s a good girl.”

Too entranced to say a word, the fairy warrior just gaped as the spider bravely inspected the new terrain, skittering back and forth and brushing pedipalps over rough skin. 

As Bog lovingly praised its progress, Marianne’s imagination flirted with the idea of what a wonderful father he’d be someday. 

 _One step at a time_. 

She was pulled from her musing when she noticed a single shiny line appear from the young arachnid’s spinnerets as it made another pass over Bog’s left thumb and forefinger. 

This must have been what he was waiting for, for the next thing she knew, Bog gingerly herded the spider over to his right hand and presented it back to its original dwelling. 

“Back ye go, my wee beauty.”  He purred at the spider as it climbed into its home and made a beeline for a gnat that had gotten caught in the web during its absence.  A pleasant reward for the assistance.

With the strand the spider had left still intact, Bog placed his free hand over Marianne’s lower back and led her away to the edge of the overhang where he guided them both to sit on the ground. 

The view of the moon was spectacular from this spot.  It gave the lush nature around them a silvery haze, like a layer of late autumn frost. 

“Okay.”  Bog said, bringing both of his hands together, but not quite touching.  “I’m gonna need complete silence, so I won’t break my concentration.”

The princess nodded her compliance and scooted as close to him as she could, not wanting to miss a _second_ of what was about to happen.

Raising his gaze to the moon, Bog’s eyes rolled back to a close and he slowly inhaled through the nose and exhaled through the mouth.

He bowed his head. 

Then he began to speak.

The language was foreign and laced with throaty, bestial growls and snarls.  Marianne had never heard anything like it before.  The strange words were uttered quickly and low enough that she almost had to strain to hear clearly.  His voice had grown impossibly deeper, like distant thunder. 

As he mumbled to himself, his right index finger ducked under the thread and pulled back, stretching the fiber dangerously far, yet it did not break.  He then began to twist the strand between his hands, and Marianne watched, appropriately spellbound, as it magically elongated and thickened as he weaved it between his claws.  His brows stayed drawn in intense focus as his thin, nimble fingers flexed and swirled in time with his gruff brogue.

Hands down, this was the sexiest thing she'd ever seen or heard him do!

His palms smoothed the delicate mass into a circular shape as it continued to expand.  Under his manipulation, it grew from the size of a hummingbird egg to nearly that of a walnut.

He then abruptly stopped his guttural incantation and held the ball up towards the moon, as if he were making an offering. 

“ _Ann do dealbh, naomh gealach_.”

He brought the orb back to his chest and released a single breath upon its surface.

Marianne was startled to see that, despite the warm, summer temperature around them, a misty cloud escaped from Bog’s lips and coated the gauzy sphere.  The interwoven threads now sparkled like morning dew drops.  It actually now looked like a miniature moon! 

Opening his eyes and extracting a hand with unexpected ease, Bog reached behind him and picked up the curved stick.  As if it were made of the finest glass, he gently placed the newly formed worb into the arch, tugging a few strands loose to attach them firmly to some of the twig’s corners.    

Satisfied, he held up his creation for a brief inspection before plucking a single blade of grass from the soil and pushing it inside. 

Marianne’s jaw dropped and she made a choked cry of wonder as she saw the torn plant pass through what should have been a sticky barrier as easily as if it were sinking into a rain puddle and emerge within, a fraction of its original size!

Bog gave the worb a shake and the stalk, now no longer than an eyelash, bobbed and fluttered like a feather caught in a breeze.

It was done.      

Astounded and tongue-tied, all Marianne could do was stare at him, wholly and truly… _fascinated_.

“Ta-da!”  Bog joked with a toothy grin.

Just like that, her stupor was broken by his endearing dorkiness and her face melted into a warm and blissful smile.

“In case I don’t tell you enough,” she said reaching up to place a kiss on his cheek, “you…are… _amazing_.  Thank you for sharing this with me.”

He didn’t respond, but she saw the impressive blush as he crushed the worb in his hands and tossed the whole thing off the edge of the overhang.

“Did ye want ta see anythin’ else tanight?”  He asked as he wrapped an arm around her waist.

“No, I think I’m good.” She whispered as she cuddled up against him, wanting nothing more right now than to hold him and _be_ held _by_ him.  “Let’s just sit here and look at the moon for a while.”

There would be plenty of time later for more magic and questions.

As they sat together, she hummed a few bars of the song they had sung to each other the night they'd fallen in love.  He kissed her neck and hummed right back.

... 

... 

“I love you.”

“I lofe ye too.”

**...**

**...**

**...**

**...**

“So what about the _pansies_?”   

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please do not hound me about the proper translation of Bog's 'magic words'. It was insanely difficult to pin down and I know it's probably way off. It is Scottish Gaelic and what he is essentially supposed to be saying is: "In your image, sacred moon." Anyway, let me know what you think via either Kudos and/or comment! I've got several more Strange Magic fics in the works cuz I am helplessly addicted! :)


End file.
